De Libero Arbitrio
"For there was sorrow then too, and gathering dark, but great valour,
and great deeds that were not wholly in vain."
December 26th 2026
She watches the convoy file through the main gate. The guards there wave a grim goodbye before locking the steel door behind them. Non all of them will be coming back... but word is that the war is going to be over soon. She follows the trucks with her eyes for as far as she can see them from the roof terrace, until they are tiny black dots disappearing behind a shapeless grey hill.
She really needs to talk to Connor. She finds him in the Command Centre.
"May a have a word with you, Sir?" He pretends he hasn't heard.
"Sir. Sir, please..." He carries on ignoring her.
"Just a minute, Sir." Still no reply, so she decides to just ask away.
"Why won't you just let me join the others?" She follows him as he enters Tactical. "Why can't I fight like everybody else!?"
"Not now, Corporal, I'm busy."
"You won't let me join my team, yet you have no real task here for me and you clearly don't want me around either. I think you owe me some explanation..."
He stops abruptly and she almost bumps into him.
"I owe you, corporal?"
She stares at him red with embarrassment, immediately regretting her very poor choice of words.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to..."
"You go. You die, Allison."
Everybody dies, she rationalizes. Three out of ten never come back. And yet, one thing is to deal with the odds of war... but General Connor's words sound so much more like a death sentence. Like certainty. He keeps his gaze fixed on her, the light in his eyes is distant, cold, and yet so heartbreakingly sad. For a moment, she'd swear the person in front of her isn't even human.
An awkward silence has fallen onto Tactical and now everybody is more or less openly staring at them.
"In my office," he concedes before striding into his room, swiftly followed by a slightly shaken yet no less determined Allison Young.
"It's not just statistics, isn't it?" She closes the door behind them as he sits behind his desk. "You know things. What they say about you... that you know the future..."
He sighs heavily but doesn't reply.
"How do you know all this? How can you possibly know what is going to happen?"
"You wouldn't believe it," he chuckles, but there is no mirth in his eyes. "And even if you did, you'd wish you never asked."
"Try me," She finds there is really nothing funny or laughable about the situation. "It's my life after all. Don't I have a right to choose?" As the words leave her throat, she feels the sudden weight of fate falling on her shoulders.
"Choice is overrated," he snaps bitterly. "Freedom of choice is nothing but an illusion caused by the blissful ignorance of the future." Mrs Weaver would be so proud of him now.
She just gives him a stern look in reply.
For some reason he always refused to think that Cameron was the copy of a real human being. Or at least, most hypocritically, the thought that her looks belonged to some unknown casualty somehow made it a less atrocious crime. But he should have known that it made no sense. Why would Skynet send in a nondescript soldier as an infiltrator to kill Connor? Oh no, Skynet would want to get as close as possible to the target. A high ranking officer. A friend. A lover.
There he has it. Finally, and definitely too late, he gets it. Everyone now knows that he is keeping her from harm, and sure enough Skynet is already well aware of this odd behaviour. Whatever does, did or didn't do, whatever he says or refuses to say, whatever happened or is going to happen may be the very prompt to the events that will lead to her death... and really, there is nothing funny about it, but he can't help laughing at the thought.
The discovery of the Time Displacing Equipment has unleashed an inevitable series of events that have already happened and will happen again, regardless of his resistance. He will be responsible of his father's death, of Derek's death, and – soon enough – of Allison's as well.
And the ugliest part of all, what makes him disgusted at himself, is that he would still choose Cameron over Allison. That he'd d choose metal over flesh for his own selfishness. And it just isn't fair. Somewhere in his heart he needs to believe that this event isn't fixed, that this one – just this once – may be evitable. That he could save both.
"The thing is..." he finally breaks the silence but he's more talking to himself than to the woman in the room. "The moment you know what will happen you no longer have a choice. Do you understand this?"
She nods.
"Are you afraid?"
She nods again. "Nonetheless, I need to know."
"I can respect that... I did the same."
She sits in front of his desk and he tells her everything. That she will die and how. That a machine will take her place and try to assassinate him and fail. That this cyborg will become his most reliable asset, his best friend and so much more. That she will save his life countless times and guide him through the worst, prepare him for the war. That in the end, this cyborg who murdered her, will sacrifice herself to protect him, to give him and the resistance a chance at winning.
She just stares. Unable to even think. She refuses to believe a single word, yet she knows every word is true.
"I'm so sorry, Allison... But, you know, there is always a chance that none of this will happen. That time will unfold differently now, and that's why I'm not letting you go with your team..." Everybody knows that everybody dies, and no one knows it better than John Connor. And yes, her death may be inevitable, but he be damned if he won't try to prevent it.
A knock on the door breaks the dreadful silence of his office. "Sir, we intercepted a message concerning the shipment of equipment consistent with their new weapon," a wide grin spreads on Lt. Barnes as he delivers the news. "They're ours now."
"Have Reese and his team ready to leave in thirty minutes. And get Price and Bishop for the explosives," Connor orders.
"What about hacking...?" the lieutenant shoots a hesitant glance in Allison's direction.
"I'll be coming with you," the leader of the resistance says before she can volunteer.
Allison and Barns exchange looks. The other man opens his mouth to reply, but shuts it back close. There is no point in arguing with John Connor about him joining in an extremely dangerous mission.
She leaves the office without saying a word and a moment later he starts gearing up for the upcoming assault.
As he is finishing to check his equipment, a civilian nurse rushes over to him with a note in her hands. 'Urgent. Sector 02, level -1'.
"We're leaving in ten minutes. What is it?" He meets her outside the generator room, where part of the ceiling collapsed blocking the access to the rest of the corridor. She is sitting on a pile of bricks, playing with her hair.
"Assuming you're not batshit crazy – respectfully speaking, Sir – and everything you told me is true..."
"Allison, I don't have time for this.
"..the time travel, my death... well if all that shit is true, this mission is too important. You are too important. Even my cyborg copy seemed to understand it."
"We already talked about it," he turns to leave but she springs up, taking hold of his arm.
No one really knows John Connor, and now she realizes, she certainly never will. She doesn't know what it means to be him, although maybe she's starting to understand. The troops claim he isn't human, that he's an amazing strategist with a heart of stone... They couldn't be more wrong. He himself alone bears such knowledge, the weight of so many lives, the undeserved guilt of so many losses. He cares. He cares so much about each and every life – and not just human lives.
"You say knowledge of the future takes away our freedom of choice. I disagree. I choose to save humanity, to save you."
She can understand why those who have seen him for who he is are willing to die for him. She can understand why they love him regardless.
"How many of us are given the chance to actually make a difference? I'm not eager to die, but if you think about it, it's not a bad way to go. After all, in the great scheme of all things, my death will be more meaningful than most. It's not much, but it's an encouraging thought."
"Please don't..."
"It's okay. I choose to."
"Allison, please..."
She places a hand on his cheek, caressing him gently. She plants a deep soft kiss on his lips, he releases the grip on her wrist to pull her closer and... "Goodbye, John." The brick hits him hard on the head. The last thing he knows before blacking out is the taste of her kiss and the sound of booted steps running away.
After being dismissed from the infirmary, John Connor learns what he already knew. Allison Young is MIA, taken by the enemy and presumed dead. Again, the weight of time crushes his pathetic efforts at cheating. Again, he loses his battle against inevitable events.
No fate. Sarah couldn't be more wrong. No choice, is a much more appropriate motto.
The older he gets, the more he fears that his humanity, his very soul will be the price to pay to put an end to the war. And he wonders why, with so many worthier people, did the burden of leadership had to fall upon him.
Back in his quarters someone left an old tattered book on his cot. There's a pen keeping the mark between the pages. He opens it to find a few underlined words.
"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
His needs to sit. And for the first time in eleven years he cries.
